


CAW

by erestor



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a crow is more than only a bird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CAW

**Author's Note:**

> This is an odd story, I admit it. You will learn things about horses and crows that you never thought you would, and the story contains a spoiler for an upcoming series I'm working on.
> 
> Beta-read by Miss Eveiya.

It was a dark, rainy day, befitting the sad occasion. Erestor, wrapped in a black cloak, tried not to cry, but when Glorfindel finished his little speech, his cheeks were wet, and this was not only due to the rain. Melpomaen, who stood by his side, also wiped tears from his eyes, and Estorel hid his face fearfully in his Sia's robes.

"He was a true friend, in good and bad times, and will be sorely missed. It may sound odd if I say this, but even when I threw a boot at him for stealing my breakfast, I loved him dearly. Farewell, Garfindel, and may you find earthworms aplenty in the Halls of Waiting."

With that, Glorfindel, clad in one of his best robes, moved forward, and lit the small pyre on which the dead body of the crow had been placed. Despite the rain the wood caught fire quickly, and within a short time, the small body was consumed by the flames.

Erestor sighed. Garfindel's death had not come as a great surprise. The bird had already been at least five years old when King Thranduil had made him and his brothers Glorfunkle and Glorfinkle a present to Lord Elrond, who had passed the gift on to Erestor. Garfindel had followed his brother, who had died the previous summer, to the Halls of Waiting. It had been a peaceful death, the bird had dropped dead in his sleep, and at 15 years of age, he had been a very old crow indeed. The last year of his life he had spent sitting on his favourite shelf, hardly doing anything but eat and sleep.

Glorfindel put an arm around Erestor, and pressed a gentle kiss on his temple.

"Do not be sad, Erestor. He reached a great age for a crow, and he spent some wonderful years with us. You gave him a good home, love and my best tunic to sleep on. What more could a bird ask for?"

Erestor sighed again, leaning into Glorfindel's comforting touch.

"I know. But still - I will miss him. Now the only one left is Glorfinkle."

Upon hearing his name, Glorfinkle stopped circling over the pair and attempted to land, so Erestor stretched out his arm, wincing when the sharp claws dug through the fabric of the sleeve into his skin.

Glorfindel petted the bird, and the crow cawed.

"He looks very healthy, Erestor, so you should not worry."

Erestor looked at the crow, and had to agree with his husband. Indeed - while his brothers had shown every sign of old age, Glorfinkle was in the best of health. His feathers were shiny, his eyes sparkled, and nothing escaped his attention.

"I never really noticed, Fin, but you are right: he still looks exactly the same as he did when he arrived here from Mirkwood!"

The advisor stroked the bird's head gently, and Glorfinkle leaned into the touch, eyes half closed. Then, with a loud "caw", he flapped his wings and flew away.

"And there he goes, hunting for his lunch. It is a good thing birds do not have to grieve," Glorfindel said. "And now come, what you need is a nice glass of mulled wine to cheer you up."

Erestor nodded, then he followed his husband back to the Last Homely House.

* * *  
While Glorfindel was usually right in all things, he did err this time. Glorfinkle did grieve for his brother, very much, actually, and the last thing on the crow's mind was food. He needed something else, and he knew exactly where to find it.

He landed rather inelegantly in the branches of a tree by the Bruinen, where Lindir, the minstrel, used to sit and compose his songs. It was understood by everybody in Imladris that he did not wish to be disturbed here. Everybody respected this unwritten rule, even Feronil, who contented himself with watching Lindir from a distance, hidden behind a bush.

Glorfinkle had hoped that Lindir would sing, and he was not disappointed. The minstrel had just finished a new arrangement of a traditional love song, and was now repeating it over and over again. The melody was simple but haunting, and Glorfinkle regretted that he could not hum along. He had tried it sometimes, but quite obviously, the Elves of Imladris could not appreciate the beauty of his voice, so he restricted his musical ambitions to singing in the woods, without witnesses.

"Love imposes impossible tasks  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
Though not more than any heart asks.  
And I must know she is true love of mine."

Lindir accompanied his song on the harp, and the lovely tune brought some sunshine to the otherwise dark day. Glorfinkle sighed - it had been sad to part with Garfindel, though he knew that this was the beginning of a much longed-for new chapter in his brother's life.

"His voice is lovely, and delights my heart."

Glorfinkle turned his head, and of course, it was Námo sitting next to him. If it had been anybody else, the branch would have broken, but the Vala seemed to weigh nothing.

"Indeed, it does, I do agree  
Though he keeps missing  
The highest 'C'",

Glorfinkle answered, and began to preen his feathers.

Námo nodded.

"He is still young, he will improve. But look - how elegantly his fingers move when he plays the harp."

Glorfinkle shrugged, then he eyed a bug which came wandering along the branch. Quickly, he pecked at the insect, and swallowed it down before returning his attention to the Doomsman of the Valar.

"As an expert, my lord, I can clearly see  
That fair Lindir composes sweet melody.

He can sing of the sea and the sky above  
But fair Lindir should not try to sing about love.

For he never loved, I know this is true  
So regarding love, he has simply no clue."

Lindir, disturbed by the noise of the crow above, interrupted his song, stood up and waved his fist angrily at Glorfinkle.

"Will you be quiet now, you rotten feathery beast! One more noise from you, and I shall bring you to Master Erestor grilled, with a thyme stuffing!"

Námo arched an eyebrow.

"A most sensitive young Elf, it seems. He might not know about love, but he seems to have a wealth of knowledge when it comes to the art of cookery."

Glorfinkle decided that this remark by the Vala was not worth answering, and instead spread his wings to return to the Last Homely House. He circled over the Great Hall, then decided to go and see an old friend. The crow flew through one of the stable windows, then hopped over the straw to Asfaloth, who was chewing lazily on one of the carrots that Estorel had brought him earlier.

"I thought you would come and see me," Glorfindel's horse said, nodding at the crow. Then he added, a little worried: "How are you, my friend?"

"I do feel better, thank you, my friend.  
At least he found a peaceful end.

The loss of my brother - indeed, it hurts  
But Glorfindel spoke most comforting words,"

Glorfinkle replied, and began to preen one of his wings.

Asfaloth neighed.

"Oh, yes, he is good with words! A smooth-talker and a charmer, and who would know this better than I? It still works on me, after all these years!"

Glorfinkle didn't answer, but stared rather sadly into the crib.

"You miss your brothers," Asfaloth stated, and Glorfinkle nodded.

"I know they are happy, but I am still sad  
They were the last friends on Arda I had

There is nobody left to share the tales of old  
No friends left for me, nobody to hold."

Asfaloth shook his head.

"That is not true - I am still here."

The crow hopped closer and rubbed his head against one of the large horse's legs, cawing gently.

"Now who would have thought that I would ever hear you calling him a friend," Námo said, brushing straw from his leggings.

Asfaloth gave the Vala his most arrogant look.

"It is one of the characteristics of an intelligent being to learn from mistakes," he said, biting down hard on a carrot, "horse or crow, Elf or Man - what does it matter in the end?"

"Wise words, my child," Námo said, "I see you have learned a lot. Maybe it would be safe to return you to Arda..."

The Vala was interrupted by a stable hand who had entered to accompany Asfaloth to the smithy. He had to be shod, an appointment the horse had completely forgotten about.

"I will talk to you later, my lord," the horse called over his shoulder, "I have important business to attend now!" Then he followed the Elf out of the stable, leaving Námo alone with the crow.

"How is it that every time I offer to let him be reborn, he has to shoe his hoof or braid his mane?" Námo asked, and shook his head. "I would have expected more enthusiasm."

Glorfinkle had found a beetle in the straw, and was swallowing it down before he answered, polite and well-bred crow that he was.

"Having to eat sugar, and carrots, and hay  
Is better than having Balrog Gothmog to slay."

Námo sighed.

"I will never really understand how the minds of the Firstborn work. I hope you will be more cooperative when it comes to your rebirth."

Glorfinkle almost choked on his beetle.

"My lord! Rebirth? I beg you - oh please, leave me be!  
I have never been happier, can you not see?

I am fed and petted, loved and groomed  
And not by silly oaths shall I be doomed!"

Námo reached out to Glorfinkle, and the crow hopped onto the arm of the Vala. He was now at eye-level with the Lord of the Halls of Waiting.

"Is there really nothing that you miss about your old life, my child? Nothing?"

Glorfinkle clawed at Námo's sleeve, a little embarrassed.

"There is one thing, my lord..."

Námo looked up: "Is there really?"

"Indeed, my lord - though you might find it silly."

Námo moved closer, so close that the crow could see his mirror image in the darkness of Námo's eyes.

"Speak," the Vala ordered, and the bird sighed.

"I do miss my singing, it drives me mad!  
If I was a nightingale, it would not be as bad

You chose the bird with the ugliest voice!  
All a crow can come up with is some terrible noise!

Why not return me as a blackbird? This would have been lovely!  
And preferable to a crow, my lord, in all honesty!"

"My dear child, please remember that Eru's original plan was to return you and your brothers as bullfrogs. Considering your deeds, I would think that you were not treated unfairly."

Glorfinkle bowed his head, and for a while, both Vala and crow were silent. Then they heard Erestor's voice.

"Glorfinkle! Glorfinkle, where are you? Glorfinkle!"

The crow hopped off the Vala's arm and flew to the window.

"My apologies, my lord, but I have to leave.  
For it is Wednesday, or at least I believe

On Wednesday, Master Erestor collects earthworms for me.  
They are best when they are fresh - my lord: namárië!"

Glorfinkle bowed his head, then he flew out of the window, eager not to be late. Námo followed the bird with his eyes until he disappeared behind the roof of the Last Homely House.

"Fly," the Vala said, "and in time, you shall sing again, Maglor."

**Author's Note:**

> The song Lindir "re-arranged" is, of course, the traditional "Scarborough Fair".
> 
> Why does Glorfinkle speak in rhymes? I have no idea. Maglor as a bard and minstrel, so I reckoned, would make a rather sophisticated crow.
> 
> And in case somebody should be puzzled about Asfaloth's identity: it's Ecthelion, of course. How this idea got to my mind should be rather obvious... ;-)


End file.
